


My Magdalena

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, First Time, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rogue Sam Sighting, Schmoop, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: All Dean and Cas really needed was an excuse, thank God for strippers. Now they just have to navigate the distractions.
That’s how Dean found himself with a handful of Cas’ dress shirt, fingers poised at the eyelets, just begging to peel both their worlds apart. It was just a button, and God knows Dean had fingered his fair share, but this one was different. It was dangerous. This button wasn’t gonna just come apart, it was gonna pop and everything else was gonna come undone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eyes_of_a_Tragedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyes_of_a_Tragedy/gifts).



> For Eyes_of_a_Tragedy because a shared love of Maynard requires some porn, and just like Maynard, this is a little bit weird (also SO not what I intended with this particular music prompt but *shrugs* here ya go).

_Overcome by your_

_Moving temple_

_Overcome by this_

_Holiest of altars_

  


_So pure_

_So rare_

_To witness such an earthly goddess_

_That I've lost my self control_

_Beyond compelled to throw this dollar down before your_

_Holiest of altars_

  


_~“Magdalena” A Perfect Circle_

  
  


_Fuckin' whiskey. What's it good for?_ Dean thought. _Takes the wall down, that’s what._ _Get drunk enough and your facade crumbles_. _There’s nothing good there._ _It’s all just honesty waiting in the wings to make its debut, and what the hell’m I supposed to do with that?_

_Make a fucking mess, apparently_.

That’s how he found himself with a handful of Cas’ dress shirt, fingers poised at the eyelets, just begging to peel both their worlds apart. It was just a button, and _God knows_ Dean had fingered his fair share, but this one was different. It was dangerous. This button wasn’t gonna just _come apart_ , it was gonna pop and everything else was gonna _come undone._ It had everything to do with those blue eyes staring back at him, and the velvet energy they were combing over his lips. 

The strip club had been an afterthought. A long hunt and one lame Sam later, Dean was dragging Cas into _The Candy Cane_ just to buy him a drink and watch him squirm. Before he knew it, they had a private room in the back, and enough whiskey to put down a grown bull. Oh, and Dean was about to strip the dude in front of a leggy Texas transplant with some kinda kink in her eyes. 

“ _I like money,” she’d said, “but ya’ll are beautiful, so who wants to do a lil trade? Just two buttons and a little kiss, and I’m free for the first half hour. What’do’ya say, boys?”_

_Nope. Do. Not. Do. This._ Dean screamed, but it was already too late to back out, because he was saddled up to Cas, and even though they hadn’t done anything yet, those blues were sure as hell talkin’ loud. The shit part? The stripper wasn’t even that hot, and Dean already had the cash in his wallet. He was pretty damn sure Cas did too, but neither of them were offering it up.

Which was strange… 

_Right?_

_One button_ \--Cas’ throat jumped with a swallow.

_Two_ \--and Cas chased him forward with an impatient huff. 

Dean’s face lit on fire as their lips met. Quick and stagnant it wasn’t. Cas worked Dean’s mouth open with a hint of tongue, offering Dean a taste of that rich brandy flavor. Their chins rubbed, and the pull of whiskers dragged a shock of excitement up from nowhere.Something totally unruly surged through Dean’s gut like a tugged fishing line: _Here come the secrets. Somebody get the net._

_Three buttons now._

_Four._

_Yep, just get the fucking tie outta the way--_ and then Cas’ shirt was untucked and Dean was feeling his sides flex as the two of them moved together. A little more tongue and Cas’ hands went south. Dean yanked him closer, and _God_ his body felt good between Dean’s hands.

If the anticipation had been enough to get Dean’s attention, then the beautiful fucking contact had him practically begging. His dick strained in his jeans and he should’ve tried harder to keep it to himself, but Cas’ hands were already teasing at his zipper, so maybe if he shifted just a little bit more--

“God,” he gasped as Cas’ fingers grazed over him and decided to stay.

The stripper beside them hummed. “Y’all got room in there for one more?” and Dean’s stomach did that kinda _balls in cold water_ shrink. He broke the kiss and side-eyed her crawling smile.

_Oops… Shit._

_Welp_ , Dean wasn’t wrong. Fuck the whiskey and fuck him, because now Cas was trying to shake off a pair of heavy bedroom eyes and a taken flush.

...Oh, and Dean’s hands, mostly.

Dean slowly slid back off of Cas’ ass. 

_Fuck..._

\----

“Never a dull moment when strippers and booze are involved,” Dean said because the car was too quiet and he was pretty sure Cas hadn’t blinked for ten minutes. He was just staring out the window, watching Kansas slide by. “Just another good story you can’t tell your friends, am I right?” 

He tried a laugh. It didn’t fit.

Cas’ eyes pulled over and he shoveled a little smile out of whatever corner it was buried in. “Right,” he said, then he went back to the road. Streetlamps were telling secrets, apparently.

“I mean, whiskey, man. Bad decisions all the way through. Every time.”

Cas picked a nail at the chrome. “Right.”

A stop light caught them at a dead intersection, and it washed the cab in red. Bob Seger twirled through the stereo, volume knob on low even though the urge to turn it higher begged at Dean like nails on a chalkboard. 

_It’s too quiet. Make it stop being quiet._

“Yeah, that, uh, stripper was hot though, huh?” he tried again.

“The what was?”

“Stripper.”

“Oh.” Cas squinted, sneaked a peek and got caught up in Dean’s coat, his chest, his knees, before retreating to the window again. “I… yes, that,” he agreed as he watched the moonlight pooling in the rain slick street corners.

“What was her name? Candee? Tawnee? Diamond… ee?”

“I honestly don’t remember. They’re all kind of similar. Fake tans, body glitter, parent issues.”

“Ha, we could be strippers too then, eh?”

Cas absently searched for glitter on his coat. The joke didn’t land. 

Dean tapped the steering wheel. 

_How long is this light?_

“I guess it got weird though. Probably, uh, probably too weird,” he said.

They made awkward eye contact and both immediately bailed. Cas rubbed his neck and it rolled into a shrug. “No, uh, it was fun,” he said. “I’d say it was very fun.”

Dean eyed him. _Okay, fun is good. Fun is not pissed._

“So… we’re good?” he said after a beat. “Are we good?” 

“Yes. Of course. I’m fine--are you not fine?” 

“Huh? No--I mean, yeah. Fine. Good, actually. Everything’s good.”

_How fucking long is this light?_

Dean wrung the steering wheel as Seger closed out another song, on side A. The cassette hit end track and popped out, the radio kicking on. A local _current and classic rock_ station filtered through the speakers in static and trills from a distant radio antenna. Now was his chance to wrap the conversation up. Crank up the volume and let the professionals fill the silence for awhile. 

But he couldn’t. 

“So, if it wasn’t the strippers… then what, uh… what part was fun? For you. Outta curiosity.” His voice pitched. “Since you said it was fun, is all.”

Cas’ face went wide, and, _uh oh,_ his eyes were screaming now. There wasn’t really a better way to describe the look: those were screaming eyes. 

“Well… ” 

A dry mouth swallow trailed down his throat, and his mouth stuttered around a couple different answers before he just fell silent again.

Dean rubbed both hands down his face, leveraged against the seat as he tugged his jeans and adjusted the seam. There was no backpedaling now,that was the best answer he was gonna get. He had to jump in. 

“Can I--just… Imma tell you something,” he stumbled. His gut did a couple somersaults, and he wasn’t sure if he was gonna have to bail out the driver’s side to puke or just run. “It’s--same. For me. Best part’s--same.” 

The light turned green as they stared at each other. 

It felt like an eternity before Cas finally said, “Are you talking about the kiss--”

“Yes, I’m talking about the kiss!”

Cas huffed. His eyes went straight to Dean’s lips, combed them. His face washed in green, then yellow, then red again before he found Dean’s eyes and held them. Dean leaned closer and threaded Cas’ lapel between his fingers. Nosed him as Cas held out one last time before tilting to meet in a soft kiss. 

It was more delicate than before, calculated and unrushed. Because it was both their worlds hanging on that threadbare string, and doing it sober was making it eleven outta ten kinds of official.

It only took a moment for their mouths to warm and melt together. For Cas’ tongue to make a scandalous appearance again, flirting at the edge of Dean’s lips and provoking a field’s worth of butterflies in its wake. Dean breathed him in, all full bodied earthy smells, musty trench coat, and lingering strawberry scented body glitter from _Texas_ back at the _Candy Cane._ But, underneath it all, was something so much more: Something indescribably warm and starkly sincere. 

There was even something more about the way he looked in the red and blue lights.

_Wait--_

Dean jumped as a flashlight knocked the driver’s side window, badge at eye level. “Sir, please roll down your window.”

“Seriously?” he muttered. “Son of a bitch.”

\----

Sam suddenly slipped into the library and swiped the ticket from the table. “How’d you get this?” he asked.

Dean had just been sloughing shit from his pockets as he’d dragged Cas through to the bedroom. He stopped short and Cas ran into him; a pair of attached dominos. “What?” he asked surprised. “Where the hell’d you come from?” 

“Obstructing a traffic light?” Sam read. He looked up with a sneer. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing. He was just lookin’ for a reason. I thought you were asleep.” 

Sam checked his watch as he sunk into a chair. “It’s only 12:30,” he said brushing his hair away. “Why’re you back so soon?”

“Just tired,” Dean said. 

Sam eyed him, then slipped a glance to Cas. 

“Also tired,” Cas offered jumpy. “Separately tired.” 

It was probably safe to assume Cas’ coat and Sam’s angle were working together to hide the scandalous fistful of shirt Dean had Cas by, but even if that were true, they were still standing close enough to set off some alarms. 

None that Sam seemed to be tapping into, apparently.

Still, Cas tried to back up a step, but Dean held strong. They’d had enough interruptions, Dean was done pausing to cool off. He abandoned the handful of fabric and slipped a couple fingers discretely into Cas’ belt instead. Scraped a little arc over the trail of hair. 

Cas shuddered, balled a hand at Dean’s side and tried to brace himself away, but Dean felt his dick twitch anyway.

“You don’t usually sleep,” Sam said nonchalantly. “You feeling alright?”

“I can… sleep,” Cas spurned. “Sometimes I even do, because I want to. Because it’s nice.” Then, “Drinking makes me tired, Sam. Is that alright?”

Dean bit a smile from the corners of his mouth as Cas’ frustration inked his tone darker. 

_We shoulda just did it in the garage, poor guy._

“Yeah, Mom,” Dean jumped in. “The hell’s with the third degree? Got nothin’ better’ta do than worry about my shit traffic tickets and Cas’ sleeping patterns? You need a hobby.”

Sam squinted, hugged the back of his chair. “Nope…” he said finally, eyebrows up. “Forget I asked. You should both just, uh, head to bed, I guess.”  He cleared his throat.“I’m gonna--” he pat his pockets, glanced up again as he slipped off the chair and headed for the door. “In fact, I’m gonna go for a totally unrelated drive to somewhere else. Call me in the morning. Just… whenever. Like, late, late morning.”

  
  


They tripped into Dean’s room sloppy and quick. The bedroom door slammed behind them, and when Dean turned to make quick work of Cas’ coat, Cas spun him back, walked him to the edge of the bed as he tucked up behind him and sunk a hot kiss into the nape of his neck. 

Normally, Dean would have a comeback for such a bold move. Something quippy and headstrong to parlay the fight for control before he settled happy into second billing, but this time he didn’t need to. This time, Cas was already talking, telling him exactly how it was. And it turned out, however short Cas fell with words, he made up for in body language. Because Dean had everything he needed to know: Cas wanted him slow. He didn’t want to own him or use him up and throw him away.  His touch wasn’t dirty or ill-intentioned. It was careful. Warm. It begged at Dean for a kind of _experience_ apparently only he could give, and it thanked him for the opportunity just as quick. 

Just like that, Dean’s evening flipped on its head one more time. The world slowed and his defenses came tumbling down. He relaxed into Cas, back stretching long over his chest as he leaned into a sucking kiss and scrape of teeth. Cas’ lips whispered ghost touches over his neck. They provoked goosebumps everywhere they went and everywhere Dean wanted them to go.

Dean got knees on the bed and let Cas have him, hold him up. He leaned his weight into him, and Cas was warm against his back. Suddenly Dean wished they’d started with shirts, because the fabric between them felt like plastic wrap. Just more barriers keeping them separated. 

Dean reached around and tugged Cas’ shirttail out from his pants. “Take it off,” he begged. Cas skirted under Dean’s shirt instead, along his stomach. He angled his intention in easy fingertip pressure at the edge of Dean’s waistband, working just under the elastic, first-knuckle deep. 

Dean switched focus, pulled his own belt open and popped his jeans. Made room for hands. Cas’ fingers danced in sweeps over Dean’s pelvis, toying at the edge of his hipbones. One to the other. Dean caught his wrist and pulled him lower, moaned as Cas found his dick and finally took it in his hand.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” Cas admitted. His voice was milk chocolate beside a kick of central air.

Dean bucked just enough to ride that first titillating wave of pleasure, the one that told him things were ending very good tonight. He nuzzled Cas, temple brushing into his stubbled chin. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Is that a serious question?” Cas scoffed, smiled. “Because I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s heart flipped and he suddenly peeled off of Cas, turned. His eyes were probably wider than he meant them to be. “What?” he stumbled. “You can’t just drop shit like that.”

It took a moment, but Cas’ smile grew back again, lopsided and warm. “You already knew that,” he said with certainty. “I’ve been telling you for years.”

Dean shook his head. Something got stuck up in the back of his jaw and it burned him in an old achy place like a cigarette snuffed into his skin. 

_Yeah_ , he knew, but hearing it out loud was a wound ripped open fresh, so now it was either gonna be tears or touching.

He opted for the latter, nodded stiff and grabbed Cas’ face with both hands. He bit a kiss into his lips as he wrapped arms around his neck, tugging him into a hug, tasting him. Fucking absorbing him into his touch. 

Cas whined and moved against him, rubbed his hard-on along Dean’s leg, and Dean went for his belt. Pulled it from its loop and took a heavy pass over Cas’ dick through the fabric. Dean felt just how hard he was and it lit a fire in his stomach. He slipped Cas’ coat off, his suit jacket. Rehashed the day by getting fingers tangled in his tie and snagged in his buttons.

“Yeah,” Dean said as he paused to admire Cas’ bare chest. He thumbed over his pilled nipples, then drifted over to the enochian tattoo branding his side. “Same,” he said as he sunk onto the bed and licked a kiss into Cas’ belly.

He pulled Cas’ boxers and watched his dick slip free. Long and hard, flushed pink and already seeping, Dean licked the tip and reveled in the salty sweet taste that popped on his taste buds, the gasp Dean’s tongue provoked. 

Then, Dean swallowed him up. He moved unflinching down Cas’ shaft and sucked all the way back up again. Spit slick, it only took  a couple passes before Cas’ hands found Dean’s hair and buried. Before that deep throat moan out of Cas matched the flutter in the back of Dean’s own throat, then Dean came back off. Moved a slick fist down his shaft instead as Cas snagged him in a greedy kiss.

Cas bit a mark into Dean’s neck and pushed him backward onto the bed. Dean hit with a bounce and Cas tugged his jeans down. They both chuckled as the pants tangled in Dean’s boots, and Dean realized there was some anxiety in the air for both of them.

“Skipped a step,” Cas admitted as he picked Dean’s foot up and pulled one off.

“Can’t imagine why.” 

Dean sat forward, ran hands over Cas’ ass and down the backs of his thighs, then Cas was on top of him again. The missed beat felt like a planned coming together, because now Dean was starving for him. His dick ached as tension built heat in his thighs. The best part, Cas seemed just as hungry. He rutted his dick alongside Dean’s as he thrust against him, and Dean dug his head into the mattress, nerves thrumming. He wrapped a hand around the both of them at once and helped, with a rhythmic thrum.

“God, yes,” Dean encouraged and Cas moaned into him breathy, nosed him, scraped teeth along his jaw. “Lube,” Dean added suddenly. “I got some--you know, if you’re interested.”

Cas’ eyes cracked open again and that blue branded Dean. 

“If I’m interested?” Cas repeated eyebrows up, teeth shining in the shadow. He slipped a couple fingers into Dean’s mouth, brushed all the way to the back of his throat, then pulled them out again. He matched it and swallowed the same two fingers before they disappeared from view altogether and Dean felt them tease at his asshole.

A couple wet passes, and Cas sunk a finger in him slow. Dean huffed, writhed against the modest ache, let it soak into the pit of his stomach. He fucking welcomed it. 

Try getting a girl to sink a finger or two in; it ain’t likely to happen. They just usually weren’t that into it, and there just usually wasn’t much of an opening to ask. Plus, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a box of some _shame_ toys under his bed as a fill-in.

_So, yeah--_

“Is that what you want?” Cas asked low and gravelly. He gripped Dean’s dick and slipped down it with a firm fist as he let his voice drag. As he moved his finger.

_Yes. God, yes._ Dean moaned. He couldn’t find the words.

“More,” he begged, and Cas obliged. He squeezed the second finger in beside the first, mouthed Dean’s neck as he did and bit a mark where he settled. Moved _in and out,_ made himself more room. Dean centered the burn. Channeled the pleasure in it. 

His heart was in his ears. Their breath labored. He could feel Cas’ heartbeat in his neck.

Cas’ stubble scraped over Dean’s temple again, his heavy breath in Dean’s ear, and Dean felt Cas' dick drip. He was building. They both were, and it wasn’t gonna be long now.

“Fuck it,” Dean said mopping the precome onto his hand and smearing it onto Cas’ dick. “Get in there, huh? Nature’s got you covered.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas puffed. He glanced aimlessly through the room and Dean knew he was looking for the lube.

“Settle down, stud. I ain’t complainin’, but I don’t think you’re gonna gut me either.” Dean tried to wipe the smile away as he watched an angelic hair of spite crawl through Cas’ face.

Cas suddenly pulled his fingers out, dragged Dean to the edge of the bed and-- 

_Oh fuc--_

\--sank the head of his dick inside.

Dean groaned, clawed fingers into Cas’ shoulders, back flexing as he came off the mattress. All at once it was too much. “Wait--” he yelped, but Cas slowed, calmed him. Combed arcs around Dean’s ears, and kissed his forehead. 

He whispered, “I can stop,” at least twice before he bottomed out. Each time he got Dean’s enthralled, and stubborn _, go-ahead_.

Then, Cas started moving again. Inside Dean. Slow and hot. The burn melted like butter in the microwave as Dean adjusted, and all the attention came back to his crying, ignored dick. Until Cas swept the _sweet spot_ anyway. Until Cas mercifully remembered and wrapped Dean in his fist again, stroking him in tandem with the thrust of his hips. Then everything built quick. There was no stopping it, even if Dean had wanted to. 

He came hard, fingers digging into Cas’ back hard enough to leave bruises, noises that maybe he should’ve been ashamed by but wasn’t. Spunk up on his stomach, his shirt, Cas’ chest.

Cas huffed hard and his fingers curled into Dean’s hair. His head dropped low and he came just after, everything inside Dean filling up and seeping slick as Cas moved through it. Kissed Dean and breathed.

Dean wiped Cas’ sweaty hair back, arm around his neck as he pulled Cas to his chest for a hug. “I guess we have a stripper to add to the Christmas card list,” he said. His voice was taken from him. His energy spent.

Cas puffed again. It was probably a gracious laugh, but Dean wasn’t looking at him.

He braced himself and slipped out of Dean, hit the mattress on his back with a sigh and closed eyes. He breathed a few moments before speaking again.

“I hope you liked that as much as I did.”

A smile cracked through Dean’s face, and if he was paying it any mind, he’d have known it was relief.

“Yeah,” he said, “but I need my intestines back.”

“So you’re saying you were wrong?”

Dean held hands up. “I surrender,” he admitted. “I was very wrong. You gonna toss me a heal or am I gonna be chair bound for the rest of the week?” He looked over, took in Cas’ flushed face and easy expression. “You know, donut pillows and the whole nine.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to deal,” Cas said biting some new found mischief from his lip.

Dean nodded, shrugged. “Sure, I mean, it’s probably already weird enough for Sam, but, that's your call.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm winchester-reload on Tumblr!


End file.
